


Playing Heartstrings

by musicribbons



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Classical Music, Comfort, F/M, Modern AU, Romance, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:04:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3728248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicribbons/pseuds/musicribbons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do when your dream is being pried out of your unwilling grasp? Levi Ackerman, a talented violinist, is fighting against his disintegrating abilities. Zoe Hange, a young brilliant scientist, is being crushed by academic pressure. As they seek and find ways to cope with their newfound challenges, they find an unforeseen solace in each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Turquoise Spring

The wind blew its breath and tousled the white curtains. The ivory and black keys glistened under the sunlight that shone through the window like a spotlight. The black grand piano owned a grandiose presence within the practice room. But the grand piano wasn’t the center of attention in the room. It was the violin. Its elegant neck was poised on top of its mesmerizing curves. The strings were taut against the fingerboard and trailed into the scroll. The varnish of the violin glimmered with every slight movement.

The violinist had a crisp white button-down shirt neatly tucked into black pants. His sleeves were pulled up and folded onto themselves. His eyes had an intense focus penetrating his music stand. His posture was grounded and strong—two feet squarely planted in the ground. The command he had over his stance suggested that this was how he naturally stood because of the time he invested in that specific position. He had such pronounced grace laced with strength as he played.

Oh, the sound. It cried the most beautiful notes as the vibrato caressed them. Each note carried one another to the next measure. The high-pitched notes were so sweet and how they soared.

_Chopin’s Nocturne in E-flat major, Opus 9, No. 2._

The listener held her breath. It was perfect. It was perfect for today: a warm spring day. She closed her eyes. It sounded like turquoise, she decided. Cool, but soothing, like when the final lumps of snow finally melted away and trees began to bud. Nevertheless, underneath all of superficial sound, she heard how earnest the music was. It was so earnest to the point it sounded raw, like he was bearing his soul to the music.

“Excuse me,” said a voice.

The listener jumped in alarm and saw a bald man with a greying moustache waiting patiently beside her.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” he chuckled.

“No, not at all,” she waved her hands in soft objection.

“He's good, isn’t he?” the man smiled.

“I’m at a loss of words. He’s amazing,” she exclaimed in a hushed voice, doing her best not to disturb the musician.

“Yes, he is exceptional. Only twenty years old and has a bright future ahead of him,” the man agreed. “Are you a violin major?”

“Oh,” she laughed, “No. I’m from Sina U. I was just dropping something off for a friend.”

Then, it stopped. Both listeners looked up see the violinist wearing a scowl on his face and his violin and bow were dropped by his sides with a hint of defeat. He gently placed them on top of the grand piano and began to scribble in notes on his music stand with an opposite ferocity of how he cared for his instrument. His black bangs veiled his concentrated gaze. Suddenly, the pencil slipped from his fingers and hit the ground, followed by a couple curse words under his breath. For a moment he stood there, rotating both wrists, testing their mobility.

The older man narrowed his eyes for a quiet moment.

 “I hope I’m not intruding,” she moved away from the door with the large glass pane. The violinist looked straight at her as she moved. His eyes darted to the man beside her. The tenseness from his body dissipated once he saw older man.

“Nice afternoon, innit?” the man opened the door and entered. "You look much too tense for such a peaceful piece."

“Professor Pixis,” the violinist nodded once in acknowledgement. "I'm still learning the piece."

“Have a nice day, miss,” the older man named Professor Pixis smiled at the girl and closed the door behind him.

The girl who spent the last couple minutes admiring the violinist adjusted her glasses, shifted the backpack straps on her shoulders, and regretfully turned on her heels.

What a beautiful violinist, she thought.

Before she left, she read the room number.

In neat typography, it read, _Practice Room 17_. Seventeen. Her favorite number.

As she pulled away her lingering gaze, she saw the violinist’s intense steel eyes follow her. Politely, she smiled and skipped off to her biochemistry lab with her messy ponytail bouncing right behind her.

 


	2. Nicknames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ponytail and Seventeen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Reader: I thought you had exams.  
> musicribbons: SHHHH. ._. I do.)
> 
> I re-wrote this chapter at least five times. Each time, it was completely different. I'm still trying to hash out what Levi and Zoe would've been like in their early-twenties and not in a possible state of PTSD. And yes, I decided to go with 'Zoe', because it made more sense than 'Hange', since it is a modern AU. I think Isayama uses her/his/ze (in the manga) last name because of the military status?

The girl who was eavesdropping on Levi’s practice earlier that week was bothering him again. She tugged at the back of his mind, asking him to figure her out. It was the way she looked at him. He couldn’t decipher it. After another run-through Levi was utterly and completely dissatisfied with, he finally put down his violin.

He had seen other music students before, peering into his practice sessions. All their faces he recognized: competitors. Levi wished that the practice rooms weren’t so easy to peer into, with their mostly glass walls and doors. Whenever the professors were showing off the talent at Mitras Music Academy and he happened to be one of the students, he felt like a lab rat in a glass box. With the increased student enrollment, the school did build new practice rooms that were nearly soundproof with less glass, but they were stuffy.

That Tuesday he couldn’t recognize who that girl was. Maybe she was a first-year student, Levi considered. No, they usually spied with a shy admiration. Not this one. Not the girl with the messy brunette ponytail. From the looks of it, she didn’t even realize she was staring. He hadn’t seen an expression like that in a while, probably because he had been competing for so long.

Judges at competition always had a focused, critical glint in their eyes. Parents wore an anxious or proud expression on their face. Most violinists at competitions oozed a shaky and nervous confidence. The Mitras students here had a proud air around them and judged each other to establish where they stood in terms of talent.

Not Ponytail. He couldn’t put a finger on it. Maybe she was laughing at him. Internally. Levi did sense that someone was watching for a while. He was pretty frustrated with how the piece didn’t come easily to him. Levi had to admit, it wasn’t his best. Usually, he selected intense pieces full of fervor, but Professor Pixis wanted him to challenge himself. As Levi massaged his wrists, he headed to the kitchen to make himself some tea.

While the water boiled, he filled an empty tea bag with loose leaf black tea. He tapped his long fingers against the countertop as he waited for the water to finish boiling. Once the light of the electric kettle turned off, he poured himself a cup of tea.

He enjoyed that sound—the sound of hot water being poured into a cup. It sounded like the hot water and cup were playing him their own quirky chromatic scale. It relaxed him.

Levi took his cup back to the living room and settled into the couch. He placed the cup squarely on top of the black coaster on the glass coffee table. He wanted, no, needed to nail the next recital. Levi grabbed the remote in the top right corner of the coffee table and turned on his surround sound system. It was synced to the playlist on his phone, so he scrolled through his phone and found the piece he firmly believed he was struggling with.

_Chopin’s Nocturne in E-flat major, Opus 9, No.2._

Soon, the sound of gentle piano filled his open-concept apartment. Levi closed his eyes and sunk into the coach, waiting for the tea to steep. A couple peaceful moments crawled by. Suddenly, his eyes opened and he simultaneously inhaled a small, sharp breath of epiphany.

Appreciation.

It was a look of genuine musical appreciation.

Levi didn’t realize he too had slight smile when he reached for his tea. He figured it out! She wasn't judging him. He couldn't name the emotion on her face sooner because frankly, he hadn’t seen such an expression in ages.

Ponytail reminded him of why he still played violin. Levi had almost forgotten with all the stress he was putting on himself lately. Initially, he played violin for competitive reasons and was vying for a certain person’s attention. However, after reaching a certain level of playing ability, competitions were no longer challenging and that person no longer seemed to care. It seemed like too much of a waste to throw aside something he had invested so much of his life and time into, even if that person wasn't watching anymore. Thus, over the years, music grew into his passion. Music became the reason why he breathed and lived. And as a performer, he wanted to share that passion with the world. With his talent, he felt responsible for acting as the medium to convey the composers' intentions in their pieces. Except Chopin. Right now, Chopin was being an asshole.

He scoffed at the absurdity of his own abrupt thoughts.

How cliché.

He was cliché.

Levi Ackerman was a cliché violinist.

Quietly, he accepted his judgmental verdict and sipped his black tea as he listened to the nocturne play its last couple notes. Peaceful, he concluded.

* * *

Her fingers twitched. They were itching to play. Seventeen made her want to play again. (Seventeen was the nickname she gave the violinist. She decided that 'Practice Room 17' was way too long of a nickname.) She wanted to play Beethoven’s sonatas, Chopin’s nocturnes, and Debussy’s peaceful pieces. She wanted to play piano covers of the recent hit songs. She wanted to play everything. She wanted to play until her fingers hurt and her wrists ached.

But most of all, she wanted to play with Seventeen.

“Zoe,” Petra repeated for the third time with an underlying tone of impatience.

“Huh?” Zoe finally snapped her attention back to Petra. They were standing in Aisle 4: pasta, sauces, and condiments. There was a low buzz of minimal conversation amongst the grocery shoppers and the distant beeping sound at the checkouts.

“You sure you don’t want to come to the end of the year recital?” Petra asked.

“I have an exam on that day,” Zoe pushed the cart.

“You can sneak in after,” Petra poked her side.

“Eep,” Zoe jumped. “Don’t do that,” she swatted at Petra’s hand.

“You should come,” Petra urged.

“It’s rude to go to a recital late,” said Zoe.

“Just come in between performers, it’s not a big deal,” Petra sighed.

“Mmm,” Zoe studied the jars of pasta sauces on her right. “You’re really adamant about this this time. You didn't care as much last year.”

“This year, I have a surprise for you,” she beamed. "Please!" Petra begged.

Zoe caved. “Fine. I’ll come as fast as I can after my exam. No promises.”

“Yay!” Petra exclaimed. She linked arms with Zoe and ushered her down the remainder of the aisle. “I’m so sick of pasta. No more pasta.”

“Hah, we’re students, Petra. It’s our staple,” Zoe laughed.

“Maybe the violinist you were obsessing over on Tuesday will be there,” Petra thought out loud.

Zoe had mentioned the violinist earlier that week and the only descriptor she gave was that he had black hair and eyes. But that could be anyone. And based on that description, he probably also had a nose and a mouth and a body. Instead, Zoe mostly raved about how beautiful his music was. Mitras was the best music institution in the country, so again, it could've been anyone. Nevertheless, Petra hadn’t seen Zoe that excited about music. (She was as excited as when she was explaining photosynthesis to her. Petra regretted ever asking what she was studying that time. Something about electrons being excited? All she saw were arrows and green circles when she closed her eyes to sleep that night.)

Her friend perked up, “Yeah, maybe.”

“If he’s as good as you claim he is, then he should be performing,” said Petra.

“I think you mentioned this a couple times already, but what exactly am I going to?” Zoe inquired sheepishly.

“You weren’t listening, were you?” Petra frowned.

“I tried,” Zoe stuck out tip of her tongue apologetically. "But sometimes, you ramble and go off on tangents."

"You just described yourself, Zoe," Petra gave her a flat look.

"Hey!" Zoe protested.

“At the end of the year, Mitras puts on a recital where the top male and female players for each year and instrument division are invited to play a piece. Invited as in, it’s mandatory if asked. It’s like a showcase for prospective employers to come see what we have to offer. It’s also open to the general public, so it’s an event that the city looks forward to at the end of the year too,” Petra explained. "The performing students get—," Petra paused. "I got free tickets this year."

“Ohh, got it,” Zoe nodded. “By the way, Petra.”

“Yeah?”

“We should probably stop. Our cart ended up being mostly junk food again. If we’re here any longer, you’ll put more junk food in and you’ll whine to me why I didn’t stop you and how you feel fat. Which, by the way, fat is not a feeling, it's a _physical_ _state_. And you are not fat. Don’t even argue with me.”

Petra wordlessly glanced at the contents of the cart. For some odd reason, there were a lot of bags of chips and chocolate. She couldn’t help it. It was like a reflex. Her hand would just reach over and drop it into the cart, especially when there was a sale tag. Damn those sale tags! Damn student stress!

The two roommates laughed and headed to the checkout.

"Okay, maybe I'll put two of the five bags back."

Zoe gave her a look.

"Fine, three bags."

"And put some of the chocolate bars back."

"Not the chocolate!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not the longest chapter in the world. I've been really unhappy with my writing lately, so I'm putting a lot of effort into polishing it up. Constructive criticism is much appreciated. I'm also investing a bulk of my time into developing the story and characters over writing at the moment too. Quality over quantity!!
> 
> I don't think there should be any mistakes. Knowing me, there probably are. But I couldn't proofread it any longer. D:


	3. Bad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe didn’t need someone judging her right now. Not after a horrible exam, scraping both knees and palms on the sidewalk, and having some asshole run into her.
> 
> Levi didn’t need more shit dumped on him. He hated to admit it, but he was already high-strung about his E-string snapping and fully being aware that he wasn’t going to be proud of his performance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost wanted to use the G-string instead of the E-string...would've been so much funnier. *snickers* A friend and I used to play piano at our high school and the G-string was always broken. We used to crack so many jokes about it.

Zoe rubbed her eyes as she entered Titan, the coffee shop located between Sina U and Mitras Music Academy.

"One americano," she groggily murmured. She dug through her bag to pull out her wallet.

"Two forty-five," the barista charged.

Zoe wordlessly fished out exact change and dropped it flat onto the counter and pushed it towards the barista. He quietly slid the coins towards him and dropped them into the register. Zoe made her way to the other end of the coffee shop and waited for her coffee. Her americano came out fairly quickly. She thanked the barista and walked out as fast as she walked in.

In the short couple minutes she was in Titan for, it began sprinkling. Zoe groaned. She hated the rain. She hated being wet. She glanced at her watch. She missed the first thirty-five minutes. Zoe impatiently bounced on her feet while waiting for the crosswalk sign to change. Time dragged on. Her head snapped left and right. There were two cars coming from her left and one car from her right. If she ran, she could make it. She took the chance.

She ran across the street, but then her foot got caught on the curb and she went flying. When she landed, her glasses bounced off her face about a meter in front of her. Her coffee hit the ground and exploded on the concrete sidewalk.

"Fuck," she swore.

"Hey, are you okay?" Someone scooped her arm up and pulled her up. "That looked really painful!"

"Thanks," Zoe looked for her glasses, slightly limping. She skinned both knees. Why did she wear shorts today of all days? Oh, right. She spilled ramen soup on her sweatpants and she hadn't done laundry since exams began three weeks ago.

"Here, hold this for me," the guy handed his umbrella to her and walked ahead a couple steps of Zoe and picked up her glasses for her. "Good news, your glasses aren't broken."

"Thank you," Zoe accepted her glasses. She slipped on her glasses to see a young man pain in appearance with dirty blond hair. He was a little taller than her and there was a gentle smile upon his face.

"You were in BIOL 201, weren't you?" he asked, ducking under the umbrella with Zoe.

"Yeah," Zoe stared at her spilled coffee.

"I was in BIOL 201 too," he smiled.

"I'm in a bit of a hurry," she said apologetically.

"Oh, what direction? That way?" the guy pointed in the same direction she was headed.

"Yeah," she confirmed, still holding onto his umbrella.

"Well, we should get going, shouldn't we?" he decided, taking a step forward. Zoe had no choice but to follow after him. She was holding his umbrella.

"Thanks, umm?" she walked beside him.

"Moblit, you? I sat a row behind you in BIOL 201. And I sat near you in the exam," he answered.

"I'm sorry, I never noticed," she glanced at her watch again. She wasted ten minutes. Petra really wanted her there. "I'm Zoe," she quickly added.

"That's okay. We were all stressed in that brutal exam. Where are you headed?" he inquired. "Oh, let me hold the umbrella." He took the umbrella from her cold, scraped hand.

"Mitras Performance Hall," Zoe responded, "My friend gave me a free ticket."

"Oh, are they performing?" Moblit asked.

"Not that I know of," Zoe shrugged. She wasn't really in the mood to chat with strangers. She was late, exhausted, and soaking wet. On top of it, the exam was harder than she thought it would be. "Look, Moblit, I really appreciate you helping me, but I need to run," Zoe stopped in her tracks.

"Uh, yeah, of course," Moblit stumbled over his words.

"Thanks, I guess I'll see you around," Zoe said politely with a tired smile.

Right before she took off, Moblit blurted out, "Wait. Take the umbrella."

"No, it's fine, thanks," Zoe tightened the backpack straps against her body and began to run.

"Bye," he murmured. He momentarily stood there in the rain, watching the distance between them grow. Again.

* * *

Zoe slammed open the double glass doors of the Mitras Performance Hall. She had never been in the Performance Hall before, it was beautifully designed. There were decorative event banners hanging from the high ceiling. The floor shined under the bright lights—it had been just waxed. There were spiral stairs carpeted in red on both sides, leading up to the second floor balcony.

Water droplets dripped off of her onto the floor. It poured cats and dogs on the way run here. Her feet squished about in her waterlogged sneakers as they squeaked across the floor. Zoe hastily wiped away the raindrops on her glasses. Suddenly, someone rammed into her and she fell backwards. Her glasses went sliding across the floor for the second time of the day.

“Christ!” she swore in pain. Her head spun for a moment after it collided with the spotless floor.

“Watch where you’re going,” snapped the man who ran into her. She looked up and squinted to see a blurry man dressed in a tuxedo with black hair. Grudgingly, he reached out a hand. Zoe shot the blurry figure a glare and slapped his hand away.

She was going to be covered in bruises tomorrow. She already had scrapes on her palms and knees. Now, there was a high likelihood she bruised her butt too.

“I’m fine,” she peeled herself off of the floor and went to grab her glasses. She brushed her wet bangs away from her face and put her glasses on.

Once she stood up, she saw the guy who ran into her angrily stomping away with a black case slung on his back. “Asshole,” Zoe grumbled under her breath. Like her day couldn’t get worse.

She finally made it to the admission table. She pulled out a floppy, wet ticket from her equally wet backpack. The woman grimaced and delicately took the ticket from her by the corner. She gave Zoe an up-and-down look. Zoe’s lips pulled into a thin line. She couldn't mask her utter lack of amusement. The woman didn't even ask if she was okay! She saw the whole thing! Zoe didn’t need someone judging her right now. Not after a horrible exam, scraping both knees and palms on the sidewalk, and having some asshole run into her.

“What performance is next?” Zoe asked politely, straining to smile.

“The second years should start soon,” the woman scrunched her nose.

Zoe waited at the entrance of the auditorium waiting for the current performance to end. As she stood there, she sighed, her shoulders slouching a little. The day was almost over. Just one last thing to do.

As she waited, the bald man with the grey moustache that Zoe had seen a couple weeks ago zipped past her. This time, he was dressed in formal attire, with a quirky bow tie.

“Have you seen where Levi Ackerman went?” he slammed both hands onto the table where the mean admissions lady sat.

“N-no, sir. I’m not sure,” she quietly shook her head.

“Damn it, where did he go?” the professor jogged across the lobby of the performance hall. 

* * *

It _sounded_ perfect, but it didn’t _feel_ perfect. He didn’t feel the piece. Then it came to an abrupt melodic crash. The note he was playing ended with a hideous twang. The E-string broke. 

A premonition.

Levi sighed. He closed his eyes and his eyebrows furrowed. The accompanist also stopped playing the piano. His E-string just snapped on the day of a performance.

Chopin was probably cursing him for calling him a 'shit-eating asshole'...on a rather regular basis now. And also for bad-mouthing him for having the emotions to write his Nocturne in E-flat major, Opus 9, No.2.

“Levi, it happens,” said Professor Pixis. “It’s better it happens now than tonight. Relax,” he walked up to the young musician and gave him a firm pat on shoulder. “Re-string it, and run through it again.”

Levi gave a single nod and opened his violin case and pulled out a new E-string. With concentration knitted into his brows, he re-strung his violin with a new E-string.

“You're tense, Levi,” Professor Pixis sighed at his best pupil. “Just enjoy yourself. Have a shot or something. It'll help you relax.”

“I don't think you’re allowed to say that to a student, Professor,” replied Levi while tuning his E-string. The professor chuckled. “E, please,” he told the accompanist.

The accompanist hit the E on the piano. Levi responded by playing the E-string. It was flat. He tightened the string.

“Again,” said Levi. The accompanist played the E at regular intervals, while Levi continued to tune his violin. He tightened the string one last time and played it. It was in-tune.

“Okay, from the top!” Professor Pixis shouted enthusiastically. Levi nodded to accompanist.

Levi's violin once again shared Chopin's nocturne with the world, one bow stroke at a time. His trills were spot-on and his double-stops were spectacular. The high notes sounded so airy and dreamy that they were simply breathtaking. Levi played the last note and let the notes ring in Practice Room 17.

Professor Pixis had his eyes closed and he wore a peaceful smile. “Levi, that was superb,” Professor Pixis finally softly spoke.

“Thank you,” said Levi. He didn’t feel it though—the peacefulness. He resigned his fate to simply playing the piece as written. Apparently, that was good enough.

"Did you know Chopin dedicated all three nocturnes to a married woman?" Professor Pixis asked.

"No," Levi admitted.

"The wife of a good friend of his, no less," Professor Pixis chuckled. "I wonder what their relationship was like." He looked to Levi expectantly for an answer.

"I wouldn't know," Levi responded, not knowing what the point of this conversation was.

"It sounds like a peaceful melancholy, innit?" Professor Pixis thought to himself.

"I'm not sure," Levi honestly wasn't sure how to interpret the piece.

Professor Pixis watched his student for a couple moments and then said, “A lot of important people are coming tonight.” He stood up and headed to the door. "Good luck, Levi."

“Thanks for all your hard work,” Levi turned to the accompanist. He didn’t even know her name. Professor Pixis brought her in today to substitute in for his usual accompanist. “He didn’t properly introduce us. Levi Ackerman,” Levi extended his hand.

The young lady blushed and shook his hand earnestly, “Anka. Anka Rheinberger.” Levi withdrew his hand to begin packing his violin. “You’re amazing,” she blurted out.

Levi looked up from packing his violin.

“I-I mean, your playing is amazing,” her words rushed out.

“Thanks,” Levi zipped up his violin case. “I’ll see you tonight,” he left Anka in the room.

Levi slung the violin onto his shoulder and headed to his theory class. He festered in his thoughts. He knew he would play all the right notes and play it exactly how Chopin wrote it. He wasn’t confident he could play it how Chopin intended it to be—peaceful with an underlying tone of melancholy. He didn’t know how peaceful felt, only melancholy.

* * *

The black bow tie was the last touch. Levi gave it one last tug and tightened the bow. He combed back his slicked back hair one last time. He threw on his tuxedo jacket and checked his phone: 7:27 PM. The performances began about thirty minutes ago. Levi felt stuffy in the room, so he decided to leave. He still had time before meeting up with Anka.

He faintly heard the sound of a cello and a piano when he exited the dressing room. Other students who were equally as well dressed as him murmured amongst themselves. The girls were dressed in a rainbow of floor-length dresses. The guys were dressed in tuxedos and wore different coloured bow ties. There was a nervous energy clouding the performers. Levi knew it was contagious, so he left as fast as he could.

His black leather shoes clicked against the floor. They echoed in the emptier hallways as he wandered about. Levi slipped his hands into his pockets and he continued on his way. Then, he felt his phone vibrate in his coat pocket. He slowed to a stop and pulled out his phone and checked the screen.

_Luther._

Levi let the phone ring a couple more times. He could ignore it. Levi didn’t need more shit dumped on him. He hated to admit it, but he was already high-strung about his E-string snapping and fully being aware that he wasn’t going to be proud of his performance. He just hoped it would be good enough for _them_ , but more importantly for _her_.

“Luther,” Levi answered the phone. He silently held the phone against his ear. “I’m busy,” he stated firmly. “No, I can’t.” Again, silence. “Luther. I. Can’t,” he enunciated his words dripping with hostility. Click.

Levi let the phone drop by his side. He rubbed his temples.

“Fuck!” he burst out and punched the wall with his left hand. A disturbing crunching sound erupted. Levi didn’t make a sound. He leaned against the wall with his damaged left hand holding him up. His breathing was heavy. Levi stood there with a defeated slump and calmed his breath. He gingerly flexed his left hand. Levi winced. Pain began to throb. There was no way he could play now. He wouldn’t be able to even do a trill now, let alone hold up his violin. Either way, he had to leave.

Levi headed back to grab his violin.

* * *

The car was already at the entrance. Levi had his violin slung on his back as he nursed his possibly broken hand. Hesitantly, he assessed the damage of his hand. Wham!

“Christ,” the girl swore. She landed flat on her back and slowly sat up while grumbling.

“Watch where you’re going!” Levi snapped. The girl on the floor was soaked to the bone. She was roughed up: her knees were scraped and her disheveled hair was slick against her skin. He saw the state she was in and then felt a pang of pity. His stepmother always did teach him to be a gentleman. He offered his hand.

It must be raining hard, he thought.

She slapped away his hand. “I’m fine.” Levi watched the girl stumble to grab her glasses.

He didn’t have time for this. What an ingrate. Levi headed to the main entrance. The glass doors betrayed that it was pouring outside. The raindrops bounced off the black car waiting for him. Someone from the driver seat ran out with an umbrella and came to meet him.

“Master Levi,” the driver greeted him. “It’s rather awful out, isn’t it?” he held the black umbrella over Levi’s head. The two stepped down the stairs.

“How are you doing, Marcus?” Levi asked out of courtesy.

“Good, sir,” Marcus smiled and opened the car door for him.

Levi stepped into the backseat and Marcus shut it after him. He quickly scurried around and hopped into the driver’s seat.

“Off to the estate then?” Marcus tried to lighten the mood.

Levi didn’t answer. The only thing he could feel was the pain in his throbbing left hand. The only thing he saw was red—his raw, red knuckles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If a lot of things seemed ambiguous this chapter, it's because I'm foreshadowing for later in the plot. (omg, so excited!) It may seem slow, but I'm still setting up the story. I'm actually having a lot of fun taking my time setting up a good story, but I'm also really worried that the reader might be getting bored.
> 
> Please be patient with me! Or you could just not read 'Playing Heartstrings'. I'm cool with that. :P


	4. Reach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why the sudden obsession?” Petra quirked an eyebrow.
> 
> “I don’t know how to explain it,” Zoe laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. :( I got so pulled into my other fanfic, that 'Playing Heartstrings' got shafted for a while. The inspiration I had for 'Playing Heartstrings' has kinda waned away, so I'm a little worried about how I'm going to continue the story. 
> 
> Nonetheless, I will try to find my inspiration again and hopefully keep 'Playing Heartstrings' going. So do not fret! My updates may just be painfully slow, and I apologize for that beforehand.

Zoe’s jaw dropped. A stunning young lady adorned by a floor-length emerald dress walked onto the stage. In her one hand she held a slender, silver instrument that couldn’t be mistaken as none other than a flute. 

There she was. Her best friend, Petra Ral, performing on the grand stage. This explained why Petra wanted her to attend so badly. And also why she had free tickets to the performance.

Behind her, an average looking man with short brown hair followed behind her. He headed towards the piano bench. He adjusted the seat and settled into it and set up his accompaniment music. Petra confidently strode to the center of the stage and smiled to the audience. She delicately brought the flute up to her lips, poised and ready to share her music with the audience.

Following the first couple notes played on the piano, Zoe saw Petra take a breath before playing her first notes. Then her first couple notes formally announced themselves.

Pastel pink. Gentle, sweet, and fleeting. This was Petra’s sound.

Zoe uncrumpled the program in her hand and searched for Petra’s name. When she found her friend’s name, she read the details on her.

_Petra Ral – 2 nd Year Flutist  
_ _Accompanist: Ian Dietrich  
_ _Jules Mouquet – Pan et les Bergers (_ from _La Flûte de Pan)_

She had never heard this piece before, so it was rather refreshing to hear something new. It was sweet and fun like cotton candy—pink cotton candy to be specific. The flute winked and glittered playfully when Petra went through the long slurred passages. Zoe had never realized how fast Petra’s fingers were until that very moment. She must’ve practiced extensively.

The sound of the flute was invigorating. It was a wonderful change from Zoe’s regular pace of life: lab, class, study, lab, class, study, and occasionally eat. Repeat. Sleep? What sleep?

Zoe leaned against the bar at the back of performance hall because it was almost entirely full. There were the occasional empty spots, but they were protected and guarded in the middle of the rows by tightly packed audience members. It was always a painful public embarrassment to try to pry one’s way into such seats. Thus, Zoe remained at the back.

She closed her eyes to envelop herself in the music that Petra had evidently worked very hard to perfect. Zoe felt a tinge of guilt when she remembered how she was rather difficult to persuade to come in the first place.

Petra’s piece came to an end and she was rewarded with wonderful applause. Zoe enthusiastically clapped her hands too. She whipped out her phone and texted Petra.

_OMG. YOU WERE PHENOMENAL! BREATH-TAKING! AMAZING!_

Zoe shivered on the spot and then sneezed. She needed to go home and sleep. Her scraped knees stung and throbbed. She sent another text.

_Hey, Petra. I would love to stay, but I skinned my knees, dropped my coffee, and ran into someone on the way here and I’m soaking wet. I haven’t slept in thirty-seven hours. I need to head home._

Zoe sniffed and rubbed her nose. A male violinist walked onto the stage. It was cue for Zoe to leave before he started to play. Regretfully, Zoe made her way back to their small two bedroom apartment before she passed out on the spot.

* * *

There was an awful throbbing in her head when Zoe woke up. It was difficult to breathe because her nasal pathway was clogged worse than the toilet of a student house after a wild party. Zoe groaned as she rolled out of bed and searched for her glasses. Once she found them buried in her bed sheets, she shoved them on her face. Zoe checked her phone for missed texts or calls. She had one text.

_Thanks for coming, Zoe! Hope you're okay...talk to you when I get home. Gonna be late…After-party!_

Zoe sauntered off to the kitchen with only one objective: drugs for her cold. In the living room there was Petra in one of her ‘going-out’ dresses, passed out on the couch. The back of her heels were raw and red. She had worn those wretched heels again. She must’ve passed out on the couch after partying with her friends. It reminded Zoe that they had been out of adhesive bandages. She glanced down at her knees, remembering how she had fallen twice. They nearly hurt as much.

Once Zoe got to the kitchen, she opened the cupboard, only to be disappointed. There were no cold meds left. She sniffed obnoxiously. It made her light-headed.

“I don’t wanna go out,” Zoe whined and headed back to her room to grab her wallet and sweater. She shoved her feet unwillingly into her shoes that were still damp. Habitually, she grabbed her keys off the left hook at the door and locked the door behind her.

* * *

Zoe coughed into her elbow as she entered the aisle with painkillers and cold medication. In the aisle was a short young man on his toes reaching for something at the top of the shelves.

“For fuck’s sake,” she heard him swear. He appeared to be struggling to reach what he wanted and was progressively becoming more frustrated as each second passed.

“Need some help?” she said through a stuffed nose. The shorter man shrunk back to his normal height and stared at her. He had black hair with an undercut and steel eyes. “This one?” Zoe went on her tippy toes and reached for the box of pain killers he had been reaching for earlier. She stuck out the box to him.

“Thanks,” he reached out to receive the box and…

“Achoo!” Zoe sneezed on his face.

“Christ,” he swore again and wiped his face.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Zoe apologized between coughs.

“Wait,” he paused. “It’s you.”

“Huh?” Zoe rubbed her nose. This was what she got for not taking care of herself better during exams. Her immune system always crashed miserably after finals.

“I ran into you the other night,” he stated offhandedly.

“Oh, I didn’t know that. I lost my glasses,” she laughed.

“Sorry about that,” he apologized gruffly. It was the least apologetic tone he could’ve used.

“You know, you look really familiar,” she murmured, while heavily breathing through her mouth. Damn, this cold.

“I ran into you the other night,” he repeated.

“No, from somewhere else,” she shook her head. Zoe stared at the man for a couple more moments. He stared back at her for a couple moments and then shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Oh my God. I found you.” Her words were heavy, yet wispy.

“You what?” he frowned.

“Seventeen!” she exclaimed excitedly while shaking a pointed finger at him.

“Seventeen,” he repeated in an indifferent tone.

“Practice Room Seventeen,” Zoe grabbed his shoulder and shook him. “I can’t believe I found you.”

“Are you crazy?” he snapped, backing away from the delusional brunette girl with the cold.

“No, umm, let me explain. You were playing Chopin’s Nocturne that one day in Practice Room Seventeen at Mitras,” she clapped to herself.

The shorter man continued to give her a judgemental frown and then his eyes widened in realization. “Ponytail,” he murmured.

“Huh?” Zoe asked.

“Nothing,” he quickly said.

Zoe couldn’t stop smiling. She never thought she would find him, but here he was. In front of her. She couldn’t believe she was thinking this, but thank goodness for her cold!

“Zoe,” she stuck out her hand. “Wait, don’t shake that. I’m so sick.” Zoe quickly withdrew her hand. Levi gave her a flat look—she had _sneezed_ on him just moments ago. _Now_ she was worried about spreading her germs? “I’m a huge fan of your music.”

“Based on one song?” he raised an eyebrow. She kept grinning at him. He wanted her to stop it.

“Now it’s your turn,” Zoe bounced on her feet like an impatient child.

“My turn for what?” Levi frowned.

“Your name,” Zoe urged.

“…Levi,” he said hesitantly. “Ackerman.”

“Nice to meet you,” Zoe beamed with the painkillers still in her hands, “Levi Ackerman.”

Levi miserably stared back at Zoe as she beamed at him. Her enthusiasm for his music should’ve been flattering, but he felt nauseated. He hated how his music sounded lately. It was difficult to swallow that someone enjoyed his violin this much. Let alone at him _practicing_.

“So…uhh…” Zoe nervously began.

Levi’s eyebrows further knitted into his eyebrows. “What? Do you want an autograph?” he snapped. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Fans always wanted something from him. An autograph, a picture, tips on how to play violin better. The list went on.

“Oh, no!” Zoe waved her hands in protest. The box of pills chattered like a maraca when she did so. “I…um…”

“Spit it out,” Levi stated. He half-expected Zoe to grumble something under her breath about his cold demeanour like most female fans, but what she exclaimed next was a surprise.

“I wanna play with you,” Zoe said quickly.

“Excuse me?” Levi quirked an eyebrow.

“Oh, like musically!” Zoe laughed. “Not like…the other way…I’m going to stop before I say something worse.”

“What?” he was truly puzzled. “Like a duet?”

“Yeah! Or anything would be fine,” she nodded enthusiastically. Then she burst out into a fit of coughs. “I…know…how t-to…play piano,” she coughed in between her words.

Levi took a step back. Why was he entertaining this girl’s ramblings? Her hair was knotted and matted and pulled into a careless ponytail. Her nose was running. Her glasses had fingerprint smudges all over them. The way she was dressed suggested that she went on a treasure hunt in her laundry basket, where the treasure was the cleanest outfit she could coordinate.

“I don’t play with amateurs,” Levi responded. She was wasting his time.

Zoe cleared her throat a couple times before responding. “I’ve been playing piano since I was four. I’m not that bad,” she laughed. “I’m not as spectacular as you on the violin, but I’m sure I can keep up. I might be a little rusty though.” Zoe’s eyes eventually fell on Levi’s bandaged hand. “Oh my God. What happened?” Zoe gasped, her eyes filled with concern.

“None of your business,” Levi brought his battered hand behind him.

“But hands are everything to a musician!” Zoe protested loudly, gaining some unwanted stares.

“Why do you care?” Levi growled at her. It was none of her business. He could do whatever he wanted with his hands. Besides, the term had come to an end and classes were done. The only thing remaining for most of the Mitras students were their usual end-of-year performance.

He was done. He didn’t need to be doing this. Without another word, he turned on his heels and stomped away.

“Wait!” Levi heard her shout. But he didn’t hear her footsteps right behind him. He left without getting what he came for.

* * *

“Zoe?” Petra asked hoarsely when she woke up from the door opening and closing.

“Morning, Petra,” Zoe yelled out. The plastic bag rustled at her side as she slipped off her shoes. Her socks felt wet once she stepped onto the carpet. “I just went to the drugstore,” Zoe went into another fit of coughs.

“Mmgggh,” Petra groaned, rolling over onto her side on the couch.

“Didn’t even make it to your room, huh?” Zoe giggled.

“My head is killing me,” Petra whined.

“Same. But mine’s for a reason,” Zoe went into the kitchen to grab two glasses of water, one for her and one for Petra.

“Can you give me some headache meds?” Petra shouted.

“Already on it,” Zoe grabbed two headache pills for Petra and set them aside, making sure they didn’t roll away. Then she dug into the plastic bag and struggled with her own medication. Zoe’s fingers fumbled with the box and eventually, she opened the bottle and pulled the cotton out. She popped her cough meds into her mouth, threw her head back, and washed it down with a couple gulps of water.

Zoe collected the pills for Petra and her glass of water and headed to the living room. “Here you go,” Zoe offered the magical pills to Petra.

“Eugh, thanks,” Petra sat up and swallowed the pills. She drank all the water in the cup. “Thanks for coming last night.”

“No problem. You were amazing,” Zoe smiled. She settled in beside Petra on the couch. "Sorry I didn't stay longer."

Petra shook her head at Zoe. Then her lips tugged into an exhausted smile. “I think my professor was upset I didn’t pick a more challenging piece.”

“Whatever,” Zoe rolled her eyes. “Sometimes, it’s more about delivery and how the audience receives it. And they loved it last night.”

“Thanks,” Petra sank her back into the worn couch. The two friends silently sat there, enjoying each other’s company. Then Petra broke the silence. “One of the students disappeared. Professor Pixis was so furious and frantic.”

“Yeah?” Zoe raised her eyebrows in interest. She reached for the tissue box and pulled out a white sheet and immediately pressed it against her runny nose.

“Yeah, Levi Ackerman. One of the star pupils of Mitras,” Petra explained.

“Oh, I ran into him at the drugstore,” Zoe blew her nose.

“Really?” Petra was interested.

“Mmhmm,” Zoe rubbed her nose. “He’s Seventeen.”

Petra’s mouth dropped open, then she closed it. “That makes so much sense.”

“I think he hurt his hand,” Zoe remembered that one of Levi’s hands were wrapped up.

Petra grimaced. “He’s going to have to do an end-of-year performance because of the stunt he pulled. If he hurt his hand, it might be difficult…”

“End-of-year performance?” Zoe parroted.

“Yeah, it’s like our version of final exams. We have to give a small performance for the professors that teach us. Usually, friends and family are invited, and of course, other students may come to watch,” Petra explained. 

“I see,” Zoe nodded. “Hey, what are the chances he’d play with me?”

“Huh?” Petra inquired in surprise.

“I’d like to play with him,” Zoe elaborated.

“Oh, right. You play piano,” Petra nodded in realization. “Iunno, Zoe. He may be brilliant, but he’s kinda cold and reserved, to say it nicely.”

“And?” Zoe coughed.

“He's been called a violin prodigy since he was little, winning first place in all the competitions he entered. I heard he's really picky about playing with others. You might have to just talk to him and see if he’ll be willing,” Petra gave her an apologetic smile. “I don’t know what else to say.”

“Okay, so there’s a chance,” Zoe said to herself. She would have to take the matters into her own hands. She had a week or two before having to head back home to visit her parents and then start working for the summer to make enough money for another year of institutionalized hell, which most referred to as 'university'.

“Why the sudden obsession?” Petra quirked an eyebrow.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Zoe laughed. Then, she burst out into a fit of coughs again.

It was an itch. A musical itch to be specific. She just had to create music. Play it. Feel it again. She had given up all of it when she decided to go into sciences. She missed the way the black and ivory keys felt underneath her fingers. She wanted to see and experience the colours again. All of them.

Levi Ackerman’s music made her want to reach out into the world of music again. It frightened and excited her. Zoe had an intuitive tug at the back of her mind that Seventeen was where she needed to start.

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, thank you for reading 'Playing Heartstrings'. I'm still planning out the entire plotline, so my updates may be slow. But don't worry, I usually write length fanfics, so hopefully my chapters will also be long too.
> 
> If you're interested in my other works, I have a tumblr account (levihanff). Here's the link: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/levihanff


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